To The Tavern

March 9, 2013 (continued)
As we waited at the train, the magic of the small town only magnified. Looking at the train platform—this time without burying my head into the travel book—I noticed that it looked like the stereotypical train station. It was in the middle of the field with almost nothing immediately around it. There was a small shade shelter and a sign with the name of the station, but otherwise, it stood alone.  I took several pictures of it, and then walked over to take a few pictures of the nearby river.

“I’m getting a little hungry,” I told the group.

“Here,” Thibaut said rummaging in his bag. He pulled out a Snickers bar. “Take what you need.”

“Thank you,” I said and broke it. I ate my half and handed the rest back to him. “I’m getting so tired of living off of pasta.”

“You have to come with us to try Chinese noodles,” Leo said.

“I bought some Chinese noodles at the store,” I told him. “At least the packaging is all in Chinese.”

“The dried noodles that you cook in water with the powder?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I love those!” He said. “Especially with the powder, but it is so salty and bad for you.”

I laughed. “Back home, we have a brand like it—Top Ramen,” I said. “They come in a cup and you just add water to it.”

“Yes!” he said. “We have them like that too. Is so easy!”

We laughed. Apparently college junk food is the same around the globe.

One train came going the opposite direction, but ours came along shortly after. We got on and road it to the next stop. As we road along, a woman came to check our ticket. We checked with her and she confirmed that the next station was the one we wanted to see the other sites.

Getting off at the main station, we walked passed a construction zone and up a narrow cobblestone road towards the square. The whole city was oddly quiet and we didn’t see any other people out and about. Had I been by myself, it would have reminded me of Terezin, but the group made it seem less eerie.

“It’s like a fake town” Gonzalo said. “There are no people.”

“Maybe no one works on Saturday,” Leo offered.

“Or they had a crazy party last night,” I joked.

We found our way into the town square. It wasn’t very big and was equally deserted. There was another tourist information office and we decided we really should find out about the return train. Going inside, the office was dark and appeared to be closed. Leo and I found a small hallway off to the side, and ducked into it. Sure enough, the office was located in the back.

The woman behind the desk pulled up a schedule for us online. She told us there were trains at 4:46 or 5:46. We accepted that and left the office. Stepping outside, we checked the map and saw that the remaining sites were pretty close to each other.

“Should we eat first or go see sites?” Thibaut asked.

“I’d say we eat first and that way we know how much time we have for site seeing,” I suggested.

“But eating will take the same amount of time either way,” Gonzalo argued.

“True,” I said, “but we can control how much time we spend at each site. We can’t control how fast the restaurant is, so if we get that done first, we know how much time we have left and can adjust our site seeing.”

The book had suggested a restaurant as the best local flavor around. Trying to navigate to it based on the rough description was a bit of a challenge, but Leo seemed to understand it better than I did. We took a couple of wrong turns but easily found our way to the stone fountain and then down a back ally to the restaurant.

The inside of the restaurant was like a medieval tavern. The walls were paneled in wood and the ceiling rounded like the inside of a barrel. There was a bar along one side of the room, and a few tables scattered around. A large chandelier hung over a main table that could easily seat twelve or more people.

A man wearing a tight fitting maroon tuxedo greeted us as we entered. He apologized that the non-smoking room in the back was reserved, but we said it was fine. We were directed to sit at one end of the main table. We chose the end closest to the fire place as it was still quite chilly outside.

The waitresses were wearing long, flowing gold and red gowns with low cut necklines. When ours’ approached to take our drink orders, I asked for a Mirinda. The others were still reviewing the beer list and our waitress stormed off in frustration that they weren’t ready. When she returned with my drink, they ordered the local Kutna Hora brewed beer. She also took our meal orders at that point.

 I ordered the pork shoulder, which is another Czech delicacy. It came as two thick slices of ham with potato dumplings all served on a large pile of spinach. The ham was very tasty, but very chewy. The dumplings were awesome (the potato ones are my favorite.) While I’ve really enjoyed spinach with most of my meals since I’ve gotten here, this batch was not very good. Most of the spinach I’ve tried has been very sweet but this batch was quite bitter and salty. I finished all of the ham and dumplings, but only had a few bites of the greens.

“You don’t like the spinach?” Thibaut asked, as the waitress took my plate.

“Not really,” I grimaced. “Too salty.”

“I thought American’s like salt?” Gonzalo said. “Like on French fries and bacon.”

I chuckled a little. “We probably put too much salt on things, but I think there is a limit.”

“But all American food is fatty and fried,” he said. “it is all McDonalds and KFC.”

I thought for a minute, trying to find the best way to defend the American diet. “I’m not sure that’s 100% true,” I said. “Fast food is very popular in America, but I don’t think all Americans eat it all the time.”

“But you have obesity crisis because of it,” he added.

“I think the obesity crisis comes from a couple of issues,” I started. “One, the portions in America are huge. When I first got here, I was always hungry because the portions are so much smaller.”

“And there is sugar in everything in America,” he added.

“That’s partially true,” I said.

“Is it true you can get as many free Cokes as you want after you buy one?” Leo asked.

“It is,” I said. “Well most of the time. In most restaurants or movie theaters, you can get free refills on soft drinks. And water is free too. I can’t quite get used to paying for water.”

“And your sodas are huge!” Gonzalo added.

“You’re right,” I said. “Like I said, all of the portions are so much bigger. Probably too big.”

“And everything is fried,” he said, circling back to his original point.

“Not everything,” I said.

“But you eat so much bacon and French fries,” he added.

“Both of those foods are popular, but we don’t eat them all the time,” I said.

“What you would have for dinner usually?” Thibaut asked.

“Me?” I said. “Well it would depend if I was at home with my family or at school. At home, we would probably have some sort of meat—either chicken or steak—some vegetables like asparagus or green beans, and something on the side like potatoes or rice.”

“That’s healthy,” Leo said.

“Yes,” I said. “It is. And both of my parents are very good cooks!”

“Then why so many food issues in American?” Gonzalo asked.

“I think a lot of that comes down to how our food is process,” I said. “It is very clean, and the food keeps forever, but as a result, a lot of it isn’t natural. The preservatives that get added change the color, the flavor, and often, the nutritional make up.”

“Like GM foods,” Leo asked.

“Exactly,” I said.

”We use GM foods all the time in Argentina,” Gonzalo said. “I think all of the corn in the world is GM.”

“I don’t think all GM food is bad,” I said. “I think it depends on how it is used. I think the bigger issue is the hormones and preservatives.”

“GM foods are illegal in France,” Thibaut said.

“California just tried that,” I said. “It didn’t go over well. They do help reduce the price, and I don’t think they are all bad, but I think there are some inherent risks we don’t understand yet.”

The waitress took the rest of the plates and brought the bill. Again, we exchanged cash and coin trying to each pay our share and balance it out. Gonzalo only had large bills at this point so we tried to find a way to pay him and then he would cover it, but even that was difficult.

Once we had enough money on the table, the three of them went to use the restroom. I looked at what we had paid. For 731 crown meal, we’d only left 15 crowns as a tip. It seemed so small and insignificant to me. I dug into my pockets and through in a few more coins.

“What are you doing?” Thibaut asked as the three of them returned.

“Tipping is pretty important, back home,” I said. “It just didn’t seem like we’d tipped enough.”

“It’s not compulsory in France,” he said. “Only if the service is really, really good. But if it is required, it is always included in the bill.”

“Same in Hong Kong,” Leo said. “We always tip, but it is included in the bill.”

“Sometimes they include it back home, but if they don’t we normally tip 15-20%,” I explained.

“Twenty percent?” Leo asked.

“That is too much money!” Thibaut said.

We continued the discussion of tipping as we searched for the other two attractions. We found one church, but it was closed and was not a part of our tour. Just a cross from it we found a very impressive building that was called the “Italian Courtyard.” It also was not included, but it was quite beautiful. It also gave us a landmark on the map to reorient ourselves.

Standing next to a statue of Thomas Masyrk, Gonzalo said, “We need to walk along the road that follows the river.”

“Could we just go that way?” I said, pointing down a road that led to the river. It looked very rustic and medieval, and I really wanted to check it out.

Gonzalo checked the map. “Yea, probably,” he said.

I’m not sure everyone was convinced but we headed down the hill, under a large red arch, and towards the river.